, assumed the national dress. "I
was this day," he says "in my philibeg." Well might he, in after times,
when reviewing the events of the memorable campaign of 1745, dwell with
pride on the hardihood of those countrymen from whom he was for ever an
exile when he composed his journal. "All the bridges that were thrown
down in England," he remarks, "to prevent their advancing in their march
forwards, never retarded them a moment." Nor was the philibeg assumed
merely for the convenience of the passage over the Esk. "I did not
know," writes Lord George, "but the enemy might have come from Penrith
by Brampton, so shunned the water of Eden, to have attacked us in
passing this water of Esk; and nothing encouraged the men more, than
seeing their officers dressed like themselves, and ready to share their
fate."

Some ladies had forded the river on horseback immediately before the
Highland regiments. These fair, and bold equestrians might have given
intelligence; but luckily they did not. The General who had provided so
carefully and admirably for the safety of his troops, knew well how to
temper discipline with indulgence. Fires were instantly kindled to dry
the men as they quitted the water. The poor Highlanders, when they found
themselves on Scottish ground, forgot all the vexation of their retreat,
and broke out into expressions of joy;--of short lived continuance among
a slaughtered and hunted people. It was near night; yet the bagpipes
struck up a national air as the last of the Highland host passed the
river: and the Highlanders began dancing reels, "which," relates Lord
George, "in a moment dried them, for they had held up the tails of their
short coats in passing the river; so when their legs were dry, all was
right." This day, forming an epoch in the sorrowful narrative of the
insurrection of 1745, was the birthday of Prince Charles, who then
attained his twenty-fifth year. Many mercies had marked the expedition
into England, fruitless as it had proved. After six weeks' march, and
sojourn, in England, amid innumerable enemies, threatened by two
formidable armies in different directions, the Jacobite forces, entering
England on the eighth of November, and quitting it on the twentieth of
December, had returned without losing more than forty men, including the
twelve killed at Clifton Wall. They had traversed a country well-peopled
with English peasantry, without any attacks except upon such marauders
as strayed from their